


Garland

by fitzu



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Cute Kids, Foreshadowing, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24219064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzu/pseuds/fitzu
Summary: The Garland Moon: Rainy season begins; women weave white rose garlands as gifts for friends or loversA young Byleth arrives with his father in a poor village in Western Faerghus. While Jeralt and the other mercenaries get settled, Byleth decides to wander the area. He meets a peculiar boy in that village.Day 2 of Yurileth Week: Childhood AU
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc & My Unit | Byleth, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Garland

It was not a pretty sight. The portion of the Kingdom that their company ventured through was razed by a vile pestilence. The disease came to pass years prior, but it left behind lasting scars. The damage was best represented by the stone blemishes on the land. Some of the mercenaries knew the denizens of the village. They had friends, siblings, and colleagues there, but few were left to welcome the Jeralt Mercenaries.

Any greetings were lukewarm at best. Nobody was in the mood to crack out the alcohol or sing merry tunes. The innkeeper said little to their party. He only accepted their coins and pointed them on to the available rooms. Hospitality was likely the first casualty of the plague. Their leader relearned that lesson at the nearest tavern. His son overheard the man's grumbling over how cold people treated him. It was hard not to miss the grown man's yowling, especially when it came to alcohol.

Byleth sighed at his father’s grumbling. With how many open bar tabs the man had, it was only natural someone denied him service. Jeralt was no alcoholic or allowed the substance to control him, but the pitiful state of the village did not encourage the man to pray. “What are we going to do?” He asked coolly. His teal-hair was soon ruffled by the other. 

The small frown on the boy’s face did nothing to cease the other’s action. “I’m going to see if there are any kind people that would want a share a drink with me. The town is rid of the disease, but be careful, kid. I don’t need you getting mugged.” The boy had only recently turned thirteen.

Despite his age, he was an adept fighter. His quick wits and lack of hesitation made him a deadly unit before he had even come of age. He could handle himself in a fight in case someone had the gall to raise a knife on him. However, he was not about to disobey the captain of their band and his father, lest he received an extensive scolding. "I understand. I'll try not to get into trouble."

"Good, shout if you need my help." His hands-off parenting had its perks. For Byleth, it meant that he could wander and satiate any impulse. His emotions did not tell much, but he earned a small level of enjoyment in exploring. The boy's imagination was lacking, but he had an interest in observing his surroundings. At first, it gave him peace of mind that there were no bandits around. Then, it became a hobby to muse over the sights.

He did not hum or adorn a smile as he wandered, merely stared absently at each rundown home he passed. Their poor condition was hardly enough to raise flags in the boy’s head. His concerns always seemed to be centered on the brigands lurking in the brush. In towns, the area was fairly open, little cover on the streets. 

The teen’s stomach growled. He internally grimaced not nabbing a morsel from the convoy. He naturally wondered to the nearest stall. The merchant was offering up apples and apricots. The goods were bruised and not nearly as fresh as the day they were picked, but they looked appetizing all the same. 

Once he fished out a coin from his person, a large hand gripped his wrist. His stoic gaze met a downright repulsive individual. His appearance was likely altered by the effects of the plague. "Oi, this kid stole me coin. Pick-pocketed when I wasn't lookin'." The accusation was unmistakably false, but facts did not sway hearts. The merchant seemed more preoccupied with the stares of nearby patrons than the boy being openly robbed.

“I didn’t. It’s mine,” Byleth answered curtly. 

His words did not sway the man. “Hey, sir, this here street urchin has the nerve to lie to my face. What sort of business are ya running here?” His glare was pointed to the seller then. The man paled and averted his gaze. This gesture earned a smirk from the rogue. “That’s what I thought.”

This mistreatment earned a moment of genuine frustration for the boy. His eyebrows slanted downward. “But it’s my coin,” He did not catch on to the ploy and the unspoken threat of violence.

“You’re fooling no one, kid. Run along now before I get angry.” His warning was laid bare. Byleth knew what was coming next. It was as his father predicted. He did not need their rest stop to be whispering about “some demon child” and scorning his presence. He could fight for self-defense, but his often brutal fighting style diabolized him. People tended to give him wary looks after they saw his instincts at work. 

His hand moved for the knife on his person ready for the impending scuffle between him and the thief. “You don’t scare me.” The blade’s hilt was locked in his grip, ready for whatever nefarious idea the other had planned.

The thug noticed the gesture by the teenager and smirked gleefully. He clicked his tongue playfully. “Ya really should not have done that, whelp.” The hand that was not used to hold the boy’s wrist moved to his side, likely going to withdraw his own weapon. The addition of the man’s knife changed nothing for Byleth. It was not like he could land a hit on him with his sluggish movements. 

Before Byleth’s blade carved through the map’s throat, there was a cry. All eyes shot to another child. He was tearing up at the scene before them. “P-please stop. I don’t like the sight of blood...” His feeble words gave all parties pause. The villain looked confused by the development, but his gaping was only temporary. His gaze hardened on the sniveling child. 

“Quit it, ya brat!” The thug hissed at the boy. “Don’t make me gut ya too.” His knife was in hand and pointed toward the new kid. The whimpers from the child had the villain irate. He gritted his teeth and pivoted his body to face the source of the annoyance. 

“Mama... please help me,” The child continued.

The villain shook his head to the pleas. “She ain’t here to help ya. Now shut yer trap or I’ll shut it for ya.” His back moved to face Byleth.

“I... I... P-please... Go ahead," The youth smirked. “Do it, stranger. You have a perfect opening." His eyes locked on Byleth. The tone of the boy fluidly switched from shaken to composed in the span of seconds. His tearful gaze turned to austere. It did not take long for Byleth to deduce the obvious. The other provided him with a proper ruse to lower the thug's guard. The cold steel blade poked the ne'er-do-well's nape. The mere touch was enough to animate the teenager's opponent. Ditching his scheme and his weapon, he ran off in a direction away from the children.

Byleth frowned at the other. "I could have handled myself." He asserted with no doubt. His reaction time far exceeded the man's own. The laughable excuse of a run told that the villain was likely also drunk.

The other boy scoffed at his words. "Maybe so. But, it would've been a shame if you were wrong." The confidence in his tone was a far cry from his distressed facade. Upon a better look, the mercenary took in the other's features. The messy lavender-hair and matching eyes stuck out immediately, but it was his stature that stood out the most. The other looked to be about a year or two younger than him and was a runt in comparison too. His appearance gave great credence to his earlier act and made his current behavior downright peculiar.

“I don’t think so. He was weak,” Byleth answered bluntly. 

The lavender-haired boy scratched the back of his neck. "Whatever makes you happy. Not like I was expecting gratitude or anything." When it appeared that there was nothing more to be said, the shorter boy started to take his leave.

Though, it was a split-second decision that had Byleth find more to say. There was a question in mind, but he opted to start with small talk. "Do you live around here?" 

“If you call a crowded hovel living, then yes. I assume you’re not from around here.” The boy carried himself in a manner that did not befit his age. His maturity did not exactly match a ten-year-old’s, if that was even his age. His wit demonstrated in the plot by that thug proved the boy was far more than his physical appearance implied. 

Byleth nodded his head. “My father and I decided to stop here to rest. There are a few jobs in this area.” He exposited, uncaring of what the other might make of his words. He was no noble brat or from some merchant family. There was no value in knowing the whereabouts of mercenaries, lest the boy wished to sack the village or any nearby towns. Considering the other’s behavior and relation to the area, he did not seem like the type to get mixed up with that kind of scum. As he spoke, he offered the coin to the seller and received a vermillion apple. 

The information did not register any notable reactions from the other. “Not much to see around here. You would have better luck being around where commerce actually runs. The plague in this area has disgusted most of the rich folk. I am sure the pay for exterminating monsters or bandits here will be pitiful.” The grim conversation did not bother Byleth. If anything, he was struggling to extend on topics like “commerce” and “plague.” He was better off prompting a new point of discussion. 

“You kinda look like a girl. Are you not a boy?” Byleth admittedly did not talk with many people, either lacking the opportunities or offending others. 

The lavender-haired boy blinked at the words. “Well... You’re an odd one.” It seemed like the mercenary left the other speechless, unable to form a proper response to the question. “I’m a boy last I checked.”

“That’s good,” Another awkward silence gave pause their conversation. Though, it did not seem to visibly bother Byleth. “Do you want to try my apple?” The mercenary extended his hand with the half-eaten fruit. He was not as hungry as he initially thought. 

The offer looked to earn a perplexed look. “No thanks...” It did not seem like the other was starving, even if his petite physique suggested the thought. “Look, do you have something to say or not?” He sighed, likely unsure what to make of the mercenary.

Byleth answered with a shrug. "Possibly. It’s just been a long time since I got to talk to someone my age.” His honesty did little to further their talk. Though, the reactions from the younger one amused him. It was better than wandering the poverty-stricken town center. 

The boy pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re not exactly a people person.” His snark did not fully register with his present company. The immediate reaction from the statement was Byleth tossing the apple core to the ground. 

"No. I don't have any friends," He answered with neither shame nor pride. His father's line of work meant that friendships were not easy. His inability to emote coupled with his odd social upbringing made it a fantasy to get along with most people. He almost stopped trying, but something was interesting about the runt. He was put off, but he was not treating the young mercenary like a freak.

The other whistled at the fact. "Man, that's kinda sad." His sensitivity to the teenager's plight was hampered by his crass manner of speech. His choice of speech did not communicate a kind sentiment well.

“Do you have friends?” Byleth asked. It was not like the other was with anyone at present. He imagined most kids their age either had friends or siblings to keep them company. 

“Not many kids left in the village after the plague,” The runt answered flatly. The conversation returned to a sour note. 

"Oh, I know." The lack of enthusiasm in his interjection emphasized Byleth's awkwardness. "Why did you save me?" It was what he had been meaning to ask earlier. The thought admittedly got mixed up with his forced small talk. The small blunder had Byleth’s cheeks glow pink. His stoic expression contrasted greatly from his inner embarrassment.

The boy blinked and thought over the inquiry, “Hm? Was that why you stopped me in the first place?” He deduced, “You’re a bit on the slow side.” The insult slipped out fairly easily. Despite the boy’s tact, it did seem like he was too frank at times. “It just seemed wrong to ignore some kid being picked on by an adult in public.” He acted like it was a casual affair. Byleth was not too detached from normal life to know that most children did not involve themselves with armed thugs. Most matched the runt’s act.

The answer did not do enough to satiate the teal-haired youth. “Is that it?” He wished to hear more into the excuse. Slowly, the young mercenary approached and placed himself right across from the other. 

“You’re a curious one,” He commented. “You’ve only been asking me questions since we first met.”

In retrospect, it seemed like that was all Byleth could do. A normal and balanced conversation was not a simple task, especially when he already spoke little. “I’m not sure what else to say.” He answered, losing sight of his previous question. 

"I admit you are an odd one, but your curiosity is not a bad thing. With the world, we live in, learning and collecting information is vital for living. One must always be on the prowl," It was this advice that started to earn suspicion from Byleth. He did not take the boy for being a rogue, but his speech was a testament to someone with experience.

Byleth did not comment on the fact but thought back on his main question again. "Well, why did you save me? I would like to know what motivated you." He specified that he wished to hear more than fluff, "You did say there was nothing wrong with being curious."

The boy pursed his lips at the other’s logic. “Hmmm, I’ll tell you what, friend.” The emphasis on “friend” caught Byleth’s attention. It almost seemed like a nickname. The boy’s lips formed a smirk, “If you can prepare me a garland, I will tell you.” 

The oblivious expression on the mercenary’s face did not look to be what the other had expected, “A garland? What is that?” Once again, he was posing questions. His mind went to the current month. It was the Garland Moon. It had to do something with that. “I see.” He spoke up, “Can you help me?” The concept still went over his head, but he could turn to the boy for aid on that front.

The lavender-haired adolescent gave a puzzled look before he shrugged. "Well... uh, sure." It seemed like he truly did not predict that sort of response. He motioned for Byleth to follow, a confused look on his face still. Their journey spanned a decent distance from the town center. The decaying buildings were replaced by nature. Eventually, they entered a small clearing. Shrubbery surrounded them on all sides. It had the makings of a perfect trap, but those suspicions cooled once he noticed the array of flowers beneath them. 

“What is this?” Byleth asked. He was amazed by the flora, a wide arrangement of colors made up the small meadow. Its beauty had him hesitant to even approach. 

The other shrugged. “I’m not sure who planted them, but I imagine they are no longer around. I’m sure people still come to tend to them, but not many know of this area.” He slowly planted his knees into the grass. He motioned for Byleth to do the same. 

It was dawning on Byleth just what a “garland” could be. His cool eyes watched as his present company went about plucking a selection of purely white flowers, even if yellows and pinks lined the fields too. It was the prime month for their bloom. Roughly fifteen or so flowers were offered to the teenager. The small stack in his hand did little to earn a reaction. His inquisitive look earned a sigh, “You still don’t know what to do? I’ll show you, then you repeat.” The exasperation in his speech did not seem directed at the teen at least. 

The lavender-haired one collected three plants at first. He proceeded by tying them together with a piece of twain. Afterward, the flora was soon braided together. One flower added to the right, then lined up with the end of the right and middle stems. One flower added to the left, then lined up again. The concept was new to Byleth, but he was a quick learner. “Just continue to do this until you make a circle. And, don’t make it too big.” The runt instructed, already starting to get too focused on their little project. 

The progress was given to Byleth. He dutifully matched the other's steps. He nearly lost track of the pattern at times and lost a few pedals in the process. However, he did not stray from the instructions. The size of the wreath was at first a mystery to him until it finally dawned on him just what the end project would look like. It was to be for the other. His eyes trained on the boy’s crown. The intense gave made the younger one flinch.

It looked somewhat crude at the end, but Byleth felt a small sense of pride at his accomplishment. Crafts were never his forte, but he never tried any hobbies outside of fishing and hunting. It was always an activity by ordinary children. A small smile manifested on the teen's face at the sense of normality. After one more instruction to tie the two ends together, he was more than willing to oblige. The welling sense of gratitude made it not difficult to part with the garland.

Byleth was more than willing to place the item right atop the messy, lavender hair. It looked... pleasant on the other. His small smile did not extinguish upon parting with his handiwork. It looked far more beautiful on the other than in his hands. The fond look had the boy stiffen. 

“You,” He paused and recollected himself, “you know what a garland means, right?” Byleth already made it clear earlier that the concept was foreign to him. Though, the boy’s behavior was what caught his attention. The kid’s current sheepishness was unlike his conviction until then. Compared to when he suggested the other present him the garland to the present, he was a different person. 

The shake of the mercenary’s head seemed to confirm his suspicions once again, “Well, it’s a gift women give to their friends.” He tried to say that in a snide tone. Yet, it was obvious there was more to his explanation.

Byleth pouted at the words, “But I’m not a woman.” He crossed his arms and gave a small frown. 

The boy blinked, “That was... the joke.” He continued to trip over his words, not at all able to foresee the young mercenary’s responses. 

“That’s not very nice,” The teenager countered. His frown did not disappear. The sight was enough for the boy to momentarily lament his humor. 

He relented on his earlier words. “Friend, I did not mean to poke at your gender, even if you did so to me.” The addition was spoken in a smaller voice, “It’s not just a gift from women. Men too can gift garlands.” The clarification was somehow reassuring. The frown disappeared and was replaced by a contemplative expression. 

“So, does that make us friends?” He asked. If it was a gift by either man or woman to be friends and the runt wanted one from him, then it must mean that he wanted to be peers. The thought earned a delighted look. His visage was difficult to read, but the light in his eyes alluded to his sheer positivity. 

The sight caused the boy to blink. His cheeks turned to the color of a tomato, "Friends? I, uh... Possibly." The nervousness of the boy fed more into Byleth's unseen beam. It was oddly cathartic to see the composed child from earlier looking more his age. "I mean, gifting a garland has another meaning too." The words raised Byleth's eyebrow. It sounded more like an excuse than anything else. Lying and dancing around the truth was not new to him. Even if he appeared oblivious, his father trained him to see through the deception.

Alas, his blunt personality was hard to correct, “Are you sure?” 

The boy nodded his head fervently. “Of course! Gifting a garland can be for lovers too. It can be interpreted as a romantic gesture” His insistence resembled his earlier poise, but it appeared more like he was trying to act put together. It was much akin to a child asserting that they could handle a menial task without adult assistance. 

Though, Byleth’s odd personality shut down that response. “You want to be lovers?” Those words had the younger boy’s entire face turn scarlet, both at the implications and frustration. He walked right into that response. It appeared that he did not expect his own words to be used against himself. It soured his mood to see his teasing fall so flat and for the other to imply that he wanted that sort of relationship too.

“N-no! No! Goddess,” The boy grumbled to himself as covered his face with his hands. “It was all a joke. You were supposed to be embarrassed by giving me the gift!” His perseverance on the thought did little to mitigate his fluster, nor incite Byleth to be bothered. It did not help either that the boy kept the garland on his head either.

“You were the one to ask for it. You sure you don’t want to be friends or lovers?” It was hard to tell with his even tone whether the other was joking or not. His eyes told little too. It was the same fond look. He appeared to be either relishing the other sight or interested in one of the options. 

The child took a few deep breathes before he proceeded, “Would you want to be lovers?” It was another attempt to try to regain the conversation.

The query earned a pause from Byleth. He did not think too much about the idea, distracted earlier by whether or not the other desired to be friends or not. Romance was something that the teenager barely understood, but being with a mercenary company exposed him to the grumbling of older men missing their wives or younger men musing over a girl worth fighting for. The idea sunk into Byleth. They spoke of kissing and other weird stuff. He was not at the age to desire that, but it did get under his skin. A pink tint on his cheeks followed the comment, "No."

The vulnerability in his stoic expression looked to fail to bring the runt relief. If anything, it fed into his fluster. Eventually, he found his voice again. “We can be friends. What’s the harm in that?” 

The prospect of making a friend was enough to shake Byleth from his stupor. His small smile returned. “Now, can you tell me why you saved earlier?”

“Still just as curious as ever… I really hope that you don’t continue to pester me in the future. I already fear that we will meet again soon,” The boy murmured in a defeated tone. His resignation to the fact was shortened by an epiphany, “Say, I never asked you for your name.”

Byleth blinked. Apparently, there was one other question that slipped his mind, “It’s Byleth. And, you?”


End file.
